Her last book sold over a million copies. That was all without an agent, publisher or even an editor. Carol Lewis pumped out her books like soft serve ice cream at the local burger joint. She also knew what people wanted: short bargain bin tales of ghouls and demons that seemed almost real. Lewis took a short online course in writing which she dropped out of. Over eighteen months, she’s made a name for herself as the authority anything ghost related. Her fans loved her authenticity. She’s written five books titled “Most Haunted”. The first two books allowed her to quit her job at the furniture shop which she hated.
Carol bought a new house near the beach. Her only regret is not sharing her new life with her late mother. She died alone in a nursing home. Carol’s husband left her when she was six months pregnant with little Amanda.
Lewis got to working on her next book. She finally found a job that she loved. She could punch out a book within month. What she most enjoyed was travelling to the locations where her books are based on. Tonight, was no exception. She drove through the snow up the mountain to the most haunted hotel in the world. She checked in at the reception and showed herself into her room. She specifically asked for the Room 806. The hotel management naturally obliged. The room has been kept untouched for fifty years. House keeping would rather get fired than go inside Room 806. But after a much publicity online from the fans, they made a special allowance for the celebrity writer.
Carol didn’t know that the housemaid jumped through the window to her death after ten minutes of turning down the room. The first thing Carol noticed was the stale smell. The furniture and deco were from the twenties and hasn’t been touched in a hundred years. Carol went straight to work. It was just after two in the afternoon, and she only had one night to get the content together for the book. Lewis had a writing process. She sat perfectly still for about fifteen minutes with her eyes closed. She soaked in the vibe of the place. As if a muse spoke to her, she received the contents of the book when she was in this trance-like state. She started typing away. The words came pouring out effortlessly. She went into flow state. Time and space didn’t matter. She was a merely a vessel in which the muse was the real writer, using her eyes and fingers to do the work. Six hours went by in an instant. When she came out of the flow state it was eight thirty. She looked out the window. It was pitch black. She gathered that the lights on the driveway could have gone out as she couldn’t see a single thing.
She felt a little hungry so she picked up the phone to get room service. There was no dial tone. Lewis put her jacket on and went downstairs to the dining area. Not one person. Something wasn’t right. Carol noticed something was very wrong. She went outside through the foyer. It was pitch black like everything except the hotel was rendered out. Carol prayed that she fell asleep and was just dreaming.
Next morning, the ambulance was called along with the fire department and the police. The room service staff found Carol dead at her desk frozen solid with all of the windows open. She didn’t write a word on the screen.